


Marvel: Off-Duty Superheroes [One Shot Collection]

by justkeepdreaming



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Marvel Universe, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Steve Rogers Feels, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 17:20:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17532983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justkeepdreaming/pseuds/justkeepdreaming
Summary: Superheroes. They're just like us.This is a book of imagines and one-shots filled with extraordinary people doing, well, ordinary things. Sometimes they succeed and sometimes they fail, and - no matter what - we get to enjoy the ride.I will write one-shots/imagines with following characters:- Loki- Captain America || Steve Rogers- Iron Man || Tony Stark- Thor- Black Widow || Natasha Romanoff- Hawkeye || Clint Barton- Hulk || Bruce Banner- Winter Soldier || James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes- Falcon || Sam Wilson- Scarlet Witch || Wanda Maximoff- VisionI'm open to requests! No guarantees, but I'd love to know what you'd like to see.





	1. Tony Stark's (Other) Greatest Fear

"Pepper!"

Tony swats away at a fly swarming his work station, but it continues to pester him. It flits around his head ceaselessly before landing on his forearm once more.

_Slap!_

The fly buzzes away, undisturbed, and Tony exhales. Maybe now he can get some godda--

_Bzzzzzzzzz._

"Pepper!" He calls out again, resisting the urge to use one of his computer monitors as a giant flyswatter to crush the bug into oblivion.

This damn fly has the absolute worst timing. There he was, minding his own damn business, but no. It decided to stop by and say hello. Or rather, bzzzz-bzzzz-bzzzzzzz....

"SHIT!" He slaps at the fly again, waving his hands wildly in front of his face in an attempt to scare it off, and sighs as it leaves him in peace.

For now.

"JARVIS?" Tony asks.

The A.I. system responds politely, "Yes, Mr. Stark?"

"Where's Pepper?" He replies. "Can you get her down here, please?  _Now?_ "

JARVIS acknowledges him promptly, "Of course, sir. One moment."

Tapping his fingers anxiously, Tony attempts to shoo the returning fly away from him. He's clearly flustered, his dark hair sticking up from where he's been running his hands through it nervously, and his eyes are darting around the floor nervously.

Sighing, he calls out, "JARVIS!"

"Sir, Miss Potts is--" JARVIS begins to reply, only to be cut off by Pepper's voice.

"Tony?" She calls out from the other room, still out of sight. "What's going on?"

The strawberry blonde woman steps into his view, and Tony's shoulders slump back in relief. Her eyes are wide as she takes in his appearance, and - most importantly - where he's currently standing.

"Don't just stand there," Tony snaps at her, " _Do something!"_

Pepper stifled a laugh, "Tony....what's going on?"

He clenches his fists, trying to keep himself from panicking, and the stupid fly swarms into his face again. Losing his temper - and his balance - as he swats at the fly, a stream of curses flows from his lips as Tony attempts to maintain his perch on top of his desk. His feet are crouched under him, fingertips bracing him on the desktop, as he looks at Pepper with a look that can only be equated to sheer desperation.

"There," Tony points, just past the wheel of his desk chair. "Kill it."

Pepper follows his gaze, her eyes landing on a tiny black spot smaller than a dime on the floor. From where she's standing, it looks like a smudge on the ground, but then she realizes the smudge is moving.

"Tony," she bites her lip, trying not to laugh. "Is that...?"

He groans, "JUST KILL IT."

She snorts, shaking her head, and smiles brilliantly at Tony. His big brown eyes are pleading with her, and she can't help but laugh at how the amazing Tony Stark, aka Iron Man, has been laid this low. Pulling out her phone, she swipes open the camera and takes a photo while Tony's brown eyes widen with more fear.

"What are you doing?" He asks. "Pepper....Pepper, c'mon. Don't do this. Please, just...gahhhh. Can you please just put the phone down? Delete that. Whatever it is, delete it. Please? Please, Pepper."

Pepper laughs, shaking her head, and tucking her phone back in her pocket, "Sorry, Tony."

"So, what? You're just gonna leave me here?" Tony cries out, watching as Pepper spins on her heel to exit the room.

He stares back at the ground, watching the tiny black spot by his chair, as he lets out another string of profanity while the woman disappears from the room. The damn fly returns, buzzing around his face, and Tony calls out Pepper's name once more.

She laughs from the other room, "Good luck with the spider, Tony!"

 


	2. Bruce Goes to the Supermarket

"Bruce?"

The scientist's head snaps up, his glasses perched precariously on the bridge of his nose, and he pulls them off. He's been working in his laboratory all day, and - to be honest - he doesn't have a clue what time it is.

"Yep?" He says, folding the glasses and tucking them in the front pocket of his lab coat. "What's up?"

Natasha grins, then lifts up an empty gallon of milk with her pointer finger and wiggles it in the air, and Bruce groans.

"Shit," he swears, slapping his hand on his face. "I mean, shoot. I mean...I - I completely forgot. I promised to get groceries today, I know. I'm sorry."

The redhead laughs, "It's okay, but you know how Steve gets when he doesn't have his Wheaties in the morning."

"Worse than the other guy," Bruce mumbles, shrugging off his lab coat and tossing it over the back of a chair.

It was the weekend, meaning the staff Tony hired to manage cleaning and stocking the fridge was gone, and the Avengers took turns making sure the fridge was stocked. Between the super soldier and Thor, they went through more food than a professional football team does on a weekly basis, and that didn't include their recent additions to the team. Sam insisted on eating as much (or attempting to eat as much) as Steve, usually giving up halfway through, and Bucky...well...let's just say that once the Winter Soldier realized he could eat anything he wanted in the facility, it was hard to keep him away from the refrigerator. They needed to keep a fruit bowl stocked at all times in order to avoid complaints.

"Got a list?" Bruce asks, passing Natasha on his way to the kitchen.

He pats his back pocket, making sure his wallet there with the credit card Tony gave him, and pockets his cell phone. The keys to one of the SUVs are on the counter, and he snags them as he walks past.

Natasha lifts an eyebrow, "You driving? I thought you hated driving."

"I do," he replies, tossing the keys her way. "It's Saturday afternoon. No way am I walking around town during the weekend."

Natasha groans, snatching the grocery list off the refrigerator, and tucks it in her back pocket while she mumbles a few curses in Russian.

"Why can't Barnes drive you?" She asks, pointing at the soldier perched on a stool at the edge of the counter with a book in one hand and a plum in the other.

Bucky smirks, before replying, "Because that's a brilliant idea. Put the two guys on the team most likely to blow up with little warning in a moving metal box surrounded by civilians."

"Convenient excuse," Natasha retorts, giving him a glare. "Where's Steve?"

The soldier shrugs, "Beats me. Not my job to keep tabs on him."

"Sam?" She asks, glancing at Bruce. "Anyone?"

Bucky takes another bite of his plum, wiping the juice off his chin with the back of his hand.

"Nope," he says, his lips popping on the letter p. "It's all on you, princess."

Bruce sighs, "Come on, Nat, let's just get this over with."

Fifteen minutes later, they pull into the busy parking lot of the local supermarket. Bruce moves to open the door once Natasha kills the engine of the black SUV, but he stops when he realizes the red-headed assassin isn't moving.

"Aren't you coming?" He asks, motioning toward the doors.

She shakes her head, pulling out the list and slapping it against his chest, "Nope."

Rolling his eyes, Bruce steps out of the vehicle and shuts the door behind him. The parking lot is packed with shoppers heading to and from the store, and he is careful to avoid any oncoming cars. The other guy hated getting shot at, so he probably wouldn't appreciate being hit by a car.

Once inside, he grabs a cart and unfolds the shopping list to scan its contents. Steve's clear handwriting lists: 'milk, eggs, macaroni + cheese, Oreos, root beer'. Underneath that, he can make out the word 'bacon' in Natasha's tiny scrawl, followed by Sam's blocky script stating 'LOTS OF BACON'. Shaking his head, Bruce navigates his shopping cart through the aisles as he marks each item off the list. He picks up a few items for himself, mostly health food and caffeine-free tea, before he gets to the bottom of the list.

 _Ben and Jerry's,_  the paper reads in Bucky's unmistakeable handwriting.  _The good kind_.

Groaning, he wheels the overloaded cart back to the frozen section and stands before the ice cream freezer. Countless Ben and Jerry's flavors stare back at him, ranging from Natasha's favorite - Phish Food - to Sam's preference of Chocolate Fudge Brownie.

A few moms wheel past him, no doubt giving him a strange look as he studies the ice cream flavors like they're a complicated math problem, before he throws his hands into the air and opens the freezer.

The cashier's eyes are the size of baseballs by the time he reaches the checkout, the pile of food large enough to feed a family for a month, and he runs his hand through his disheveled hair as he pulls out Tony's credit card to pay.

"Got enough?" The teenage girl jokes, swiping the last item across the scanner and tapping a button so the total flashes up on the screen.

Bruce grimaces, "Let's hope it lasts the weekend."

"Need help getting all this to your car?" A blonde kid asks from where he stands at the end, packing the rest of the food into bags.

The scientist nods, rubbing his temple, "That'd be great, thanks."

Natasha says nothing when he shows up, supermarket employee in tow, and unloads the masses of bags in the back of the SUV. She snorts when he climbs into the front seat, throwing the list back at her, and slams the door shut.

"I hate grocery day," Bruce mumbles.

Laughing, she drives them back to the compound. Once they arrive, she tells JARVIS - through the car's interface - to alert the team and lays on the horn once she sees Bucky and Sam strolling out the doors to the SUV.

Bucky reaches the car first, lifting the back hatch, and grinning like an idiot when he sees the mountain of bags - most of which are filled with different flavors of Ben and Jerry's ice cream.

"Dude," Sam says to Bruce, his eyes wide when he takes in the masses of ice cream.

Shrugging, Bruce replies, "He told me to get the good kind, so I just got one of each."

Leaning forward, Bucky digs through the bags before they can unload them from the back of the SUV while Natasha spins the keys around her fingers. Bruce folds his arms across his chest while Sam watches, waiting for his friend to finish his search.

"Hey, Bruce?" Bucky asks, slinging all of the plastic bags filled with ice cream on his left arm and turning to face them. "I think you'll have to go back. I wanted vanilla."

Instantly, Bruce's face picks up a hint of green as Bucky laughs. The soldier's eyes widen, noticing the way Bruce's fists are tightly clenched by his sides, and sprints back toward the facility with the bags of ice cream in tow. Sam follows closely behind, calling for Bucky to wait for him, leaving Natasha to cool down the pissed-off scientist before his other side decides to make an appearance.

 


	3. A Super(hero) Halloween

"And what is the purpose of this lantern of jackals?"

Thor stares at the pumpkins scattered around the living areas of the Avengers facility in upstate New York, stumped by the decorations Tony is hanging everywhere with the help of his robotic assistants, Dum-E and U. He's currently swapping lightbulbs for black lights while the robots hang (or attempt to hang) spider webbing from the ceiling.

"It's a jack-o-lantern, Thor," Tony corrects him for the seventh time. He catches the robots dropping the webbing and groans, "Guys! C'mon. Seriously? It's not rocket science."

They lift the webbing again, unaware that one of the ends has wrapped around Dum-E, and Tony hops down from the ladder he's working on and rushes over to them.

"Stop," he says, grabbing the spider web and wadding it up angrily. "Just...stop. You're done. One of you contact Peter and get him on the next train here. Tell him to bring extra web juice."

Dum-E whines sadly, and Tony lifts an eyebrow, "You really wanna give me lip?"

It shakes its head, dropping the rest of the spider web and letting Tony throw the mess in the garbage. Thor smiles, always enjoying the interaction between Stark and his metal toys, and moves to drop Mjölnir on a black table-looking thing next to him.

"Ah-ah-ah!" Tony shouts, jumping forward with his hands out - as if he could catch the hammer before it hits the surface - and Thor lifts it, looking confused. "That's not a table, Fabio, it's a coffin. A very  _breakable_  one, I might add."

Thor frowns, and Tony lifts a hand to wave it in front of the motion sensor installed on the other side. In a flash, the lid of the coffin flies open and an animatronic zombie sits up - moaning realistically - while fog is released into the air. Thor jumps backward, clutching Mjölnir at the ready, while Tony laughs hysterically.

"You should've..." he wheezes, "...seen your....face." Tony claps his hands together with glee, much to the chagrin of Thor. "That was priceless."

The blonde Asgardian narrows his eyes, "Much like the video Lady Potts showed me of your encounter with a spider."

"Whoa," Tony snaps, "I thought we agreed not to tell anyone about that."

"Tell anyone about what?" Natasha asks, strolling into the living room with her arms crossed in front of her chest. "How scared you are of spiders?"

Tony whirls around to glare at Thor, "You  _told_  her."

"No!" Thor insists, raising his hands in mock innocence. "Tony, I--"

Natasha laughs, "I'm a spy, Stark. Did you really think I wouldn't know?"

"Does everyone know?" He whines, massaging the back of his neck.

She snorts, sitting down on the couch and kicking her legs up on the ottoman, "You mean Steve? No. Steve doesn't know."

Tony breathes a sigh of relief, closing his eyes and scrubbing his face with the palms of his hands. It's bad enough that Pepper decided to show Thor the video after Tony wouldn't stop asking the Asgardian when he was planning on joining an 80s hair band, but it seems like his secret is safe.

"...for now," Natasha muses, bringing him out of his thoughts.

His eyes open in a flash, staring down the redheaded assassin perched on the couch, "What do you mean, 'for now'?"

She shrugs, and Tony groans, "What do you want?"

"I hear the Tesla Model S P100D is nice," she says, inspecting her nails carefully while the billionaire's eyes grow large. "Fully loaded."

Tony shakes his head, "You want me to buy you a $150,000 car?! Sorry, sunshine, not worth it."

"Not worth what?" Steve asks, with Bucky and Sam in tow.

He slaps a hand on his face, swearing into his palm, before plastering on a fake grin. Natasha chuckles to herself, scooting over on the sofa so Sam and Bucky can sit next to her. The blonde super soldier glances between Tony and Natasha, clearly confused, while Thor laughs to himself in the corner.

"Not worth how pissed Pepper would be if I took Natasha up on her offer of a night of sensual magic," Tony quips, sending a wink at the redhead.

Natasha lifts an eyebrow, "You really wanna go there?"

"In the new Tesla I hear you're getting? Sure, why not?" Tony replies, pulling his phone out of his pocket to text his car guy about placing a custom order. "What color did you say it was again?"

The assassin grins, "Black. Tinted windows. With a custom Ferrari red leather interior."

Typing quickly, he grimaces as he sends the instructions over to his car guy. Superman wouldn't have to deal with any of this shit in the Justice League, that's for damn sure, but at least he's got deeper pockets than Bruce Wayne. This isn't the first time Natasha had blackmailed him into getting something she wanted, and he knew it certainly wouldn't be the last.

He tucks the phone back in his pocket, giving Natasha a sarcastic smile and a thumbs up, before turning to face the other three.

"Where are your costumes?" Tony demands, crossing his arms. "I told you, non-optional."

Sam shrugs, "I'm going as a 'missed opportunity', Tony. Isn't that obvious?"

"And what's your excuse?" He glares at Bucky.

Bucky smiles, leaning back so he can slip his hand into his pocket, and pulls out a folded up piece of paper. At the top is an exquisite hand-drawn replica of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry crest, along with a full letter explaining the rejection of a Mr. James Buchanan Barnes from the magical school.

Tony lifts an eyebrow as he scans the letter, while Bucky grins, "I'm a Muggle."

He throws the letter back in his face, trying not to laugh at the creativity involved, while turning to face Steve. The super soldier folds his arms in front of his chest, unwilling to bend under Stark's withering gaze.

"What's your excuse?" He demands.

Steve glances at Natasha, who lifts her hands, "Don't look at me, I don't do Halloween. He knows that."

"You're a  _spy_ , Nat," Steve replies. "You spend your whole life pretending to be something you're not."

She shrugs, "Exactly. I deserve a night off."

He turns to face Tony again, who is tapping his foot impatiently, "Well?"

"No," Steve replies. "I'm not doing it."

The billionaire groans, "C'monnnn. I already bought the suits."

"Nope," he shakes his head. "I told you no, Tony. You won't change my mind."

Tony frowns, "Fine, you're ruining everything, but hey. Guess that's just what you do. You're all ruiners. I had it all planned out. You were gonna be Winnie the Pooh, Barnes as Christopher Robin, Parker is Piglet, Romanoff is Kanga, Thor is Roo, Clint is Owl, Bruce is Rabbit, and Sam is Eeyore."

"What about you?" Steve asks, clearly unimpressed with Tony's plan.

Tony points at his costume, "I'm Tigger. Obviously."

 

 


	4. Gobble, Gobble

Steve groans as the timer of the oven went off, pulling open the stainless steel door to the contraption, and promptly gets smacked in the face with a puff of heavy smoke. The turkey he  _attempted_  to roast is covered in black, the skin burnt to a crisp, as he dons bright blue oven mitts and pulls the dish out of the oven.

"Damn it," he curses under his breath, earning a snicker from across the kitchen.

Glancing up, he sees Natasha walk into the room, shaking her head at the mess of failed domesticity.

"Say it and I'll break your leg," Steve warns her, aware that the red-headed assassin is thinking of the jab that every member of the team uses against him these days.

" _Language_ , Cap!" Clint teases, entering the kitchen and flopping down on one of the chairs at the bar. "Threatening violence, too? I thought they taught your generation manners."

Steve glowers at him, barely restraining himself from chucking the burnt bird at Hawkeye, and deposits it heavily on the counter with a loud clang. Nothing is working right this morning, from the turkey to the overly-boiled potatoes, and his stress level continues to rise as the clock ticks closer to dinner time.

"I'm not the best chef in the world," Steve grumbles, bitter that no one offered to help him cook. "Sue me."

Tony cackles from where he's been 'asleep' on the sofa, "Don't tempt me, Spangles. I wanted to get it catered. You insisted on doing the whole home-cooked schtick."

Bucky walks into the room, followed closely by Sam and Bruce, scratching the back of his head. The three men take a seat next to Clint, all of them lining the bar, while Natasha stretches out like a cat on one of the empty sofas.

"Uh, Steve?" Bucky asks, eyeing the blackened bird. "Is it supposed to look like--"

Steve glares at his best friend, an uncharacteristically dark look crossing his normally cheerful face, and Bucky lifts his hands in the air in mock surrender. Sam bites back a laugh, coughing instead, while Clint smacks him on the back as he wheezes.

"Just...get the plates out," Steve says through gritted teeth.

Clint and Bucky both put their index fingers on their noses, and Sam groans. He looks around the room wildly, only to discover that both Tony and Natasha have their fingers resting on their noses as well.

"Seriously?" Sam asks. "We're adults, you know that, right?"

Natasha shrugs, "It's nose-goes, Sam. Deal with it."

"I hate you," he replies, sliding out of his seat and walking over to the cabinet to retrieve the plates.

A few minutes later, the table is set with a warm cinnamon woodwick candle burning at the center. Everyone shuffles into place as Steve begins the process of shuttling food from the kitchen to the table, squeezing all of the sad-looking dishes onto hot pads on the table. There's one extra table setting at one end - in case Thor decides to join - once they sit down, and Clint frowns as he takes in the spread.

"I knew I should've gone home last night," he whispered to Bruce, who shrugs.

Steve glares at him, placing an empty dish next to the turkey to place the stuffing into before he carves the bird. Once everyone is sitting happily with their drink of choice in hand, he picks up the knife and takes a deep breath before cutting into the bird.

The muscles in his arm tense as he pushes through the burnt outer layer, only to stop immediately after.

"Need help?" Bucky asks with a smirk, earning a dirty look.

Readjusting his grip on the knife, Steve pushes down only to have the knife slide through the turkey and smash into the table with a loud bang. He drops the handle instantly, shaking off the fingers he just bashed into the tabletop, before turning to look at the turkey that is now missing an entire side.

"Uh, Steve?" Bruce says slowly, his eyes wide as he looks at the bird.

After his eyes move past the crispy black exterior, there is a small ring of perfectly cooked meat followed by a large area of pink. His jaw clenches along with his fists, as a single snicker - probably from Tony - hits his eardrums.

"Did you..." Sam speaks up after a few moments. "Did you forget to defrost it first?"

The knife whizzes toward him, the blade flipping menacingly in the air, and Sam ducks out of the way just as Natasha reaches out to snag it in midair. She twirls the blade around her fingers while clicking her tongue, and Steve sighs. With his shoulders slumped in defeat, he opens the lids covering the other assorted dishes - mashed potatoes, green beans, sweet potato casserole - only to discover that they look even  _less_  appetizing than the still-frozen turkey.

"So," Tony quips, running a hand over the back of his neck as he stifles a laugh. "Shawarma?"

Steve sighs, nodding as he drops the oven mitt on the table.

"Shawarma."


	5. Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anna is the OC in my fic, The Ides of July.

"I really do not understand why I need to be here," Loki says with a groan, rolling his eyes at Thor. "I have no interest in how the Midgardians celebrate - or fail to celebrate - the Yuletide."

Thor smiles, clapping his brother on the shoulder, "Come now, brother. 'Tis the season for much joy! We will join in the festivities and merrymaking.

"I don't  _do_  merrymaking," Loki retorts, resisting the urge to elbow Thor in the stomach like he used to do as a child.

They round the corner, falling into step with each other, as the massive living room within the Avenger's training facility comes into view. Boughs of holly trim every doorway, their bright red berries standing in contrast with the shiny green leaves, offering the only sprig of color throughout the entire room.

An explosion of green, white, and gold fills the room, decorations dripping from nearly every surface. The floor in front of the fireplace is covered with a white faux Mongolian fur rug, looking every inch as inviting as the multiple sofas sprinkled around the room. Candles of varying sizes are spread throughout the room, giving it a decidedly less 'artificial' glow, that only compliments the deep green garland draped strategically here and there. Tiny yellow lights wink at Loki through the garland, giving the effect of starlight flickering in the night sky.

The tree itself is magnificent; a glorious evergreen, representing the promise of life even in the depths of winter, stands erect in the corner of the room. Gold and white ornaments hang from every branch, glittering brilliantly in the light, as the tree rises at least ten feet in the air. Perched on the very top, a massive star glitters and glows brightly with tiny flecks of gold covering the surface.

"Tweedledee and Tweedledum, don't just stand there," Tony says as he appears seemingly out of nowhere and throws a bag of gold tinsel at Loki. "Deck the halls and...you know...all that stuff."

Loki glowers at him, shoving the bag of tinsel against Thor's chest, and watches as his brother happily tears open the bag and begins tossing the ribbons of shiny gold all over the tree. Still dressed in his Asgardian attire, Thor looks ridiculously out of place as he strategically drapes tinsel across the branches with his red cape billowing out behind him and Mjölnir dangling from his belt.

"You should help, brother," Thor booms, glancing at where Loki is standing - arms crossed - in the darkest corner of the room.

"Ah, but I'm so enjoying watching you make a fool out of yourself," Loki retorts. "The mighty Thor, reduced to a Midgardian housemaid."

Tony snorts, "I'd watch it if I were you, Reindeer Games. You're one bloody nose away from being Rudolph for the rest of the night."

Loki glares at him, using his magic to send away the horned helmet that Tony loved to mock. Even without it he cuts an imposing figure, his black hair slicked back and falling to skim his shoulders. His dark green and black leather armor, trimmed in gold, fits him perfectly and only lends to his ominous aura.

"Were we supposed to dress to match the tree?" Clint walks into the room, pointing his thumb at Loki. He glances down at his purple Christmas sweater with a glitter-covered penguin on the front and shrugs before collapsing into one of the sofas.

Tony snickers, unafraid to mask his joy at Clint comments, while Loki narrows his eyes at the archer.

"I should've killed him while I had the chance," Loki murmurs to himself.

Clint glances up at him, "What's that?"

"Nothing," the god of mischief replies with a false smile. "Absolutely nothing."

Natasha snorts, "Nice save."

The redhead assassin smirks as she enters the room, keeping her eyes trained on Loki, before sitting on the sofa next to Clint. Wearing an ivory sweater and black skinny jeans, she almost looks ordinary and non-threatening.

Almost.

Loki rolls his eyes, and proceeds to keep his mouth shut. His silver tongue got him in trouble with the Avengers on more than one occasion - with the exception of Clint, who seemed to have some hearing troubles - and, while he mischievously enjoyed sowing the seeds of discord between Thor's ragtag band of friends, the headache pounding at his temples warranted a reduction in such behavior at the time being.

"Where's Bruce?" Tony asks from the kitchen, grabbing various ingredients from the cabinets while he continues making whatever concoction he has planned.

Natasha shrugs, "Bhutan, last I heard."

"Still hanging out with the monks?" Clint questions, earning a nod from Natasha.

Tony grunts, "Not sure  _why_. I thought he had a good handle on everything."

"Right, because you  _certainly_  had a handle on everything in Johannesburg," Natasha quips. "He says he's learning a lot from the monks at Paro Taktsang. I support him."

Just as Tony opens his mouth to make a smart-ass remark, Clint lifts a hand, "Kids? Can we not? It's Christmas Eve."

"She started it," Tony glares at Natasha, who simply lifts an eyebrow.

Thor laughs, the sound booming through the facility.

"I am not certain this is one argument you wish to start, Anthony," he says with a grin, putting the now-empty bag of tinsel in the garbage. Strands of gold hang from his hair and shoulders, with several clinging to his red cape, making him look decidedly less intimidating.

Steve enters the room, trailed by Sam Wilson, and smiles at the scene. Natasha and Clint are settled on the sofa, talking in hushed tones about who-knows-what (probably things Steve doesn't really  _want_  to know), while Tony is making a mess in the kitchen. Thor seems content in his quest to rid himself of tinsel, and Loki practically blends into the shadows in the corner.

"I thought mediating was my job," Steve grins. "Loki's here for fifteen minutes, and you're already at each other's throats."

Loki scoffs, clearly offended, "Much as I would love to take the credit, this was not my doing."

"Maybe not intentionally," Sam snorts. "Every time you're here, bad things happen."

A tiny brunette enters the room, her hair curling softly around her face, and she smiles at the scene. Loki straightens immediately when he sees her, pushing off the wall and taking a step toward her. Blue eyes sparkling from the lights and candles, she laughs at Thor before pulling a strand of tinsel out of his beard.

"Tinsel? Really?" Anna asks,

Thor smiles sheepishly, "My assistance was required in decorating the tree."

Anna glances at the Christmas tree, which was tastefully decorated earlier in the day and now looks like strands of gold have vomited over every inch of it. A bare spot in the back stands out, and she bites back a laugh.

"It looks lovely," she tells Thor, patting him on the shoulder.

Loki watches her carefully, his emerald eyes trained on her every movement. The hostility in his face is gone, his features completely unguarded for the rarest minute as the combination of longing and sheer adoration makes his green eyes bright. She turns toward him, their eyes meeting for a moment, and the corner of his mouth turns up in a secret smile.

The brunette blushes as his eyes darken, and she glares at him after he winks suggestively. Hardly five seconds pass during their interaction, but volumes could be written of the words left unsaid between the two of them. It's as if a cable ran between them, their minds and hearts so aligned, despite the wealth of differences between them.

"Hey gorgeous," Tony breaks the silence.

He's holding a glass of punch out to Anna - a bright red mixture of juices, alcohols, and who knows what else - that she accepts with a thank you. Loki glowers from the opposite side of the room while Tony shoots him a cheeky grin.

The billionaire glances up at the ceiling, takes a swig of his own punch, and clears his throat.

"You know, uh..." he says, his voice low and thick with charm. "We are standing under the mistletoe."

Loki growls, twitching his fingers as he mutters something under his breath, as Anna glances up at the ceiling above where she and Tony are standing. Instead of the sprig of mistletoe that was hanging there previously, the ceiling was empty of decoration.

"Are we?" Anna asks with a laugh, pointing upward.

Tony frowns after looking at the ceiling, then glares at Loki, "Cheap trick, Houdini."

Smiling at Stark, Loki crosses the room and snakes his arm around Anna's waist. She elbows him playfully, pretending to pull away, while Tony mumbles 'couples' under his breath. Shaking his head, Tony heads back to the kitchen to begin filling the other glasses of punch. Sam takes the armchair next to Clint and Natasha while Steve ducks into the kitchen to grab himself a bottle of water.

"Be nice," Anna chides Loki, keeping her voice low. "It's Christmas Eve."

Loki grins, "I am being nice. I didn't rip his throat out.  _That_  is extremely nice, is it not?"

She rolls her eyes, pulling away from him to go sit on the sofa across from Natasha and Clint. Loki follows, chuckling to himself, before settling on the seat next to her. Thor joins them, the couch sagging under the weight of the two demigods, and Anna leans into Loki.

Clint coughs, "Loki."

The archer jerks his head back toward the kitchen, his blue-grey eyes crinkling at the corners. Anna looks at Loki, confused by the exchange, but the God of Mischief simply nods and wraps his arm around her shoulder. Murmuring a few words under his breath, the fingers of his other hand twitch.

From the kitchen, Tony curses as the sound of glass shattering reaches their ears. Steve sighs, grabbing a towel from the counter, and moves to help him clean up the mess from the broken glass while the onlookers in the living room turn to watch.

"Hey, um...Tony?" Clint calls, trying (and failing) to mask his grin.

Sam laughs, the sound coming out strangled like a cough, and both Steve and Tony stand up to look at Clint.

"Yes, bird brain?" Tony asks, earning a sharp look from Steve. Shrugging, he ignores him, "I'm kind of busy here."

Clint points above their heads. Slowly and simultaneously, as if both of them were dreading to look up, both Tony and Steve glance at the ceiling to see the mistletoe Loki magicked away from Anna and Tony now dangling above them. Sam bursts into laughter at the look of shock on Steve's face, joined by both Clint's hysterical and Thor's booming laughs, while Anna smiles and shakes her head at Loki. Loki, pleased with his work, winks at her before returning Tony's dirty look with a brilliant smile.

"God, just do it," a new voice says from the opposite side of the room.

Everyone turns, while Steve's face flushes to an even brighter red. Natasha's tight-lipped smile cracks in that moment, all of them cracking up at the situation, while Tony rolls his eyes and swallows the rest of his drink in one gulp.

" _Bucky?!"_  Steve asks incredulously.

Bucky shrugs, crossing the room to sit on the sofa next to Clint and Natasha. "What? I ship it."


	6. Team Bonding? Maybe Not

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

" _Yes._ "

"...do you really want to test that theory?" Natasha lifts an eyebrow, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she stares back at Tony Stark. 

The billionaire grimaces, narrowing his eyes at the assassin, before shrugging, "Why not? Could be fun." 

Natasha rolls her eyes, refusing to rise to Tony's bait, which only makes him all the more frustrated. He taps his foot impatiently, and Natasha smirks. When Tony doesn't get his way, he looks remarkably like a twelve-year-old boy, which is a source of endless entertainment for her.

"Come on, Nat," he whines. "Where's your holiday spirit?"

"It's not a holiday," she counters. 

Tony frowns, "It's basically a holiday." 

Before he can argue further, Bruce walks into the kitchen with a broad smile on his face. He's followed by Thor, who is wearing jeans, a white shirt, and a leather jacket over the top. The blonde Asgardian is still tugging at the jacket, exploring the various pockets and zippers, while grinning like an idiot. 

"Anthony!" Thor booms. "Is this attire suitable?"

Tony snickers, "You look great, Fabio. Like a butch Barbie."

Thor laughs, completely oblivious to the insult, while Natasha rolls her eyes. Bruce pats Thor on the back before taking a seat at the kitchen bar next to Natasha. 

"Are you coming?" He asks quietly, earning a glare from the redhead before she turns to stare daggers at Tony.

"Did you tell  _everyone_?" Natasha hisses. 

"Oh, come on,  _Pumpkin_ ," Sam chuckles from the other side of the room, entering behind Steve and Bucky. "You know you're excited about this." 

She blinks slowly at Tony, and he smiles nervously, "Team bonding?"

"What I don't understand is what you're so afraid of," Steve interrupts, giving Tony a stern look. "We'll all be there." 

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of," Bucky mumbles, earning a jab in the ribs from Steve. 

Natasha ignores him, "I don't have to explain anything. I'm not going, I'm not afraid, and I'd like to see any of you try to make me." 

Sam and Tony exchange a look before the former plops down on the other side of Bruce and takes an apple from the fruit bowl. He peels off the sticker and promptly slaps it on the sleeve of Thor's coat before taking a bite. The blonde inspects it for a moment then shrugs, leaving it on his sleeve, and jams his hands in his pockets.

"So what is the purpose of this 'harvest maze' and why is it something to be feared?" Thor asks. 

Natasha glares at him while Sam, Tony, and Bucky all chuckle. Steve rolls his eyes, and Bruce bites back a small smile.

"It's not the maze she's afraid of," a new voice interrupts. All eyes turn to land on Hawkeye, who is leaning against the doorframe. 

"You know I can kill you for this," Natasha tells him.

Clint shrugs, "Yeah, but you won't." 

He saunters into the room, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, before unscrewing the cap and taking a quick swig. Tension between the pair fills the room, and Bruce's eyes land on the knife block that is within arm's reach of Natasha. Moving very slowly, he grabs the whole unit and passes it to Sam, who then places it further down the kitchen bar away from the redheaded assassin.

"So?!" Tony asks impatiently.

"She's afraid of cornfields," Clint replies casually.

Natasha rolls her eyes while Tony and Sam burst into laughter, "I'm not afraid of cornfields."

"She's  _really_  afraid of cornfields," he counters, and Thor looks confused.

"Why?" 

Clint snickers, "You want to tell 'em, Nat? Or you want me to?"

The redhead sighs, rolling her eyes as she mumbles a curse in Russian under her breath, earning a knowing smirk from Bucky. She waits a moment with all eyes locked on her before muttering something inaudible. 

"Sorry, what was that?" Tony asks, cupping his ear. "You're going to have to speak up. We've got two centenarians here, and we need to be accommodating for our senior citizens." 

"I hate the movie  _Signs_ ," she repeats, louder this time.

Sam cackles, " _Signs_? Like, Mel Gibson  _Signs_?"

"Yes, Mel Gibson  _Signs_!" Natasha spits back at him. "It's horrifying!"

"But...but..." Tony wheezes. " _Signs_? If you had said  _Children of the Corn_ or  _Dark Night of the Scarecrow,_ sure. But  _SIGNS?!_ "

Natasha throws her hands up in the air, hopping out of her seat, and all of the laughing men jump back to give her a wide berth. Even Steve is smiling, the corners of his lips curling up no matter how hard he tries to resist, and Natasha's angry gaze lands on him. 

"Don't you  _dare_  laugh, Steve Rogers," she hisses, jabbing her pointer finger into his chest. "You're afraid of  _Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory_." 

His eyes grow wide as the room falls silent, "You promised you wouldn't tell!" 

"Oops," Natasha deadpans. "Good luck getting Oompa Loompa's out of your head." 

A few seconds pass as she walks out of the kitchen, only to hear howls of laughter erupt at the look of horror on Steve's face as multiple voices cry, "OOMPA LOOMPAS?!"

 


	7. Delivery for Tony Stark

Let it be universally known that Tony Stark is a man with a plan.

Officially, that is.

Unofficially? Well, it's more like part of a plan. It's mostly a plan. Okay, it's the  _thought_ of a plan, but really it's the thought that counts so that's enough. Who needs a plan when you're a billionaire, genius, playboy - sorry,  _ **ex**_ -playboy - philanthropist? Plans are for the weak. 

Tony Stark doesn't need plans.

He needs help.

Which is how he found himself here. Sitting in the living area at the Avengers facility in upstate New York. It's a funny story, really, because it's not like he meant for this to happen, but - unfortunately - God sometimes has other plans for our lives.

Ha. Plans.

"I should probably stop referring to myself in the third person," Tony mumbles to himself, trying to sort through the mess in front of him. It started as a simple plan - okay, an idea - because a certain someone's birthday is coming up, and Tony thought it would be the perfect time for a party.

I mean, why not? It's not like the Avengers have been busy fighting battles all over the world, right? They're just average people with average lives and not-so-average jobs. 

Plus, everyone likes a party. Except probably Natasha Romanoff, but it's her birthday so Tony's overruling her. She'll get over it. Hopefully.

The doorbell rings, and Clint Barton sticks his head into the room as he walks past. 

"You want me to get that?"

Tony shakes his head, "Nah, I got it." 

He drops the heavy book he'd been studying and jogging out of the room toward the delivery entrance. Standing on the other side of the clear glass door is a young woman with brown hair, holding a round cardboard tube in one hand, and she smiles sheepishly at the Avenger. 

"Hey, uh, is that for me?" Tony asks, swinging the door open.

The young woman lifts an eyebrow, "Are you Tony Stark?"

"You tell me," he jokes. "Yeah, I'm Tony Stark. Last I checked, I dunno."

She looks both amused and nervous before holding out a device for him, "I just need your signature then, Mr. Stark."

"So you're a fan then?" He takes the device and signs on the screen then gives it back to her.

"Just doing my job, sir," she smiles. 

Tony nods then leans to the side to glance around the young woman at the large courier van marked with the logo of a private messenger service on the side of it. The woman watches him curiously, waiting for him to take the package, but Tony stands up straight and runs a hand over his chin.

"Are you busy?" He asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

She blinks twice.

"Of course you're busy, you're working," Tony waves his hand in the air. "It's just, I need some help, and I think you might be the perfect person to do it. How much do you get paid?"

"Um..." she hesitates. "Sixteen an hour?"

Tony whistles, "Part-time or full?"

"Part-time. I'm still in school."

He nods, "So, how about this. You text your boss and let him know you're running a little late, and I'll pay your tuition for the rest of your college education. Maybe even throw in a check for thirty grand so you can afford rent without having to work as a delivery driver, let you focus on studying. How does that sound?"

"Are you...you..." she stutters, shaking her head. 

Tony reaches forward and snags her elbow, guiding the stunned young woman inside the building and letting the glass door shut behind them. He leads her into the living area, careful to avoid any doorframes or corners since she's clearly in shock, before stopping in the kitchen and letting her drop into one of the barstools lining the island. 

"Wait," the young woman says suddenly, snapping out of her daze. "You don't wanna...we're not...I'm not...I mean," her eyes are wide as she points between the two of them. "Because that's not going to happen."

"God, no! What are you like fifteen?"

She looks relieved, "Okay, um...I guess I'm just a little confused then."

"What's your name?"

"Cherry."

He smirks, "Like the fruit?"

She nods, and Tony picks up the heavy book he'd left on the kitchen counter and holds it up in the air. He waves it slightly before tossing it on the bar in front of her, and she laughs as she reads the title.

"Baking for Dummies?"

He shrugs, "Yeah, well, it's my friend's birthday in two days, so I thought I'd start practicing now. I figured it's like chemistry, right? Follow the instructions and boom, done. I, um...apparently I was wrong."

"It can't be that bad, right?"

Tony lifts an eyebrow, "My dear, I pride myself on being good at many things both in and out of the bedroom. I can tell you in all honesty that this is not one of them."

He goes to the fridge, propping the door open with his shoulder while grabbing something, before using his foot to kick it closed. Turning around, Cherry slaps a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh as Tony brings his attempted cake over to sit on the counter in front of her.

"Tell me, is that 'not that bad'?"

The young woman's shoulders shake slightly as she laughs, and she bites her bottom lip before nodding, "It's pretty bad."

Tony groans, "It's pretty damn bad!" 

She laughs, "So why are you trying to bake a cake yourself? I mean, you're Tony Stark. You just told me you would pay off my college tuition. I'm pretty sure you can afford a cake."

"Cherry," Tony sighs. "May I call you Cherry?"

"Sure."

"Cherry," he feigns seriousness. "There comes a point in a man's life when he needs to one-up his friends. You wouldn't know this, being a woman and a complete stranger, but our very own Captain America tried to cook Thanksgiving dinner last year and failed miserably. Which, being a good friend, I mocked him mercilessly for it." 

She snorts, "Obviously."

"Obviously. Good, I'm glad you get it."

"I di--"

Tony waves her off, "Not now, not now. But since then, Grandpa Rogers has been talking a big game about the whole situation, claiming that I couldn't do any better, and so here we are. I have zero desire to stick my hand up a dead turkey, so I figured I'd do one better." 

"And bake a cake."

He nods, "Yes."

"For..."

"Nat. Natasha."

Cherry laughs, "Why don't you just buy one and say you made it?"

"Because, I--" Tony hesitates, his mouth hanging open for a moment, before he turns to look at her with a smirk. "I honestly didn't think of that. Cherry, my dear, you're a genius. You definitely earned that college tuition."

"Glad I could help, Mr. Stark," she replies, pushing herself off the chair with the package in her hand. "But - regardless of whether or not I can quit my job - I need to get back in order to do that."

"Right."

He follows her to the door, and she opens it before whirling around suddenly and hands him the cylindrical package.

"What's this?" Tony asks.

"The...package? The one I was delivering? I almost forgot."

"Oh, well," he starts peeling off the tape on one end while talking to her. "Thanks for your help. Send me an email. Tony at Captain America Sucks dot com, I'll send you the check."

The second his thumb breaks the seal of the cylinder holding it shut, the end pops off the tube as the pressure holding the massive spring inside releases, and a cascade of pink glitter explodes in Tony's face. It covers both him and the delivery girl in a split second, and Tony sighs as he turns his head to the right to spit out a mouthful of glitter. A familiar voice starts cackling behind them, and Tony shakes his head - sending pink glitter cascading everywhere - as the archer presses the button to stop recording video on his phone.

"Goddammit, Clint. This is the  _ **third time**._"

Clint shrugs, "Doesn't get old."


End file.
